Revenge
by Boooyakasha
Summary: Ambushed, hurt and utterly confused, Hawkeye & Black Widow find themselves retreating and running for their lives for once while they desperately try to figure out how deep this goes and expose the lies before their hunters catch up and time runs out. *Discontinued for now- Really Sorry guys!*
1. Trapped

The pain looked immense, sweat dripped over his brow, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, his breathing was ragged and came in short, quick gasps. He was running out of time, he needed medical treatment and she knew it.

Unfortunately, they were pinned down under heavy fire at present and could do nothing but hold and defend their position until an opening showed itself. Natasha hoped that moment would come soon.

As many deep seated conflicts she'd had with Clint over the past, the bond of loyalty, trust and respect had since formed between the two of them, a rare thing for fellow assassins to come across. It was this bond that kept the duo strong at times like this, protecting one another from harm and watching each others backs.

It seemed it was Natasha's turn to do the watching now, as Clint had been shot in the side moments ago, probably taken out by a loft sniper at a close range. She'd had to cover him as they'd ducked in for cover, their enemies closing in on the area around them, making escape seem impossible.

Taking a few well aimed shots, Natasha preyed on the most threatening looking shooters, taking one out in the leg, folding another in half from the gut and one square in the forehead, killing him before he crumpled to the floor.

Thunder cracked overhead suddenly, the sky growing dark as the storm approached the shore line. By now, she could hear the waves crashing up against the metal barriers only twenty paces to her left.

At one point she'd considered it an escape route from the onslaught, perhaps snag a boat and sail out of this mess. But with the storm on its way and a bullet in her partner it would prove to be a suicide mission since they'd have to give up their cover, jump from god knows what height onto a vessel that may not even be there while not getting shot, or drowned or bleeding out in the process.

The wind picked up then, bringing small pellets of rain to the ground while it howled. Soon they would be caught in a downpour Natasha realized, making it impossible to make a clear shot at any approaching targets. If they didn't move soon, they wouldn't be moving at all.

A bullet suddenly ricocheted off a steel gutter above and flew within inches of her face. It was so close she could hear the whining noise as it sailed harmlessly past and into the steel drum behind her making a dull 'thwack' noise.

She let off a few more rounds forcing the shooters to take cover behind the metal crates and steel drums that had been left idly behind for shipping purposes. They needed more time….


	2. Fight or Flight?

**Hey guys! Thanks so much for the reviews/follows/comments! It means a lot to someone starting out. I don't know exactly where this story is going but I do have a few chapters typed out already…they seem to get longer and longer somehow. Anyways, enjoy!**

0o0

Clint let a low groan in the background, drawing her attention. Crouching low behind her stack of steel drums, Natasha hurried over to the semi concealed corner she'd left him in. He was still propped there, holding his gun shakily, attempting to hold it steady atop one of his knees and aim through the small gap she'd left him to defend. His other hand was held tightly against his stomach, the gushing crimson flow seeping out onto his grey shirt and leather jacket, soaking it straight through.

"Let me see it" Natasha ordered firmly, kneeling at his side and reaching for the covered wound. He grunted his refusal and instead asked in a strained voice, " You come up with our escape plan yet, Tasha?"

She met his stormy blue eyes with her fierce green ones, seeing the pain he was trying to ignore swirling around in his hazed eyes.

" No" Tasha replied pointedly. There was no point lying to her partner, he knew her well enough by now to see through her cold masks, and her through his. Unable to hide his disappointment Agent Barton shoulders sagged slightly, looking down at his crimson stained fingers. Natasha followed his gaze and then back up to his pale face. They needed to get out of there, Now.

" I don't see any clear routes out" she admitted, trying to get him to focus, she could tell he was starting to drift slightly. Even the best agents in the world had their limits.

Clint's brows bunched together in thought as he tried to clear the cobwebs from his mind.. " Got any flashes left?" he asked.

Natasha's eyes lit up, her stony gaze cracking for a millisecond before she returned it to its usually stony, unemotional serious state. She'd completely forgotten about the flash grenades they'd brought along from their second satchel.

Keeping low under the hail of fire that now engulfed their small secluded corner, Natasha shuffled six paces over to their right where she'd dumped their supplies while dashing for cover.

Rummaging through their heavy weaponry filled bags proved quite a frustrating task for her as spare ammo spilled out through the opening, flooding out over the ground. Finally she found what she was looking for, emerging with three thick, green flash bang canisters, juggling them on over to her increasingly pale partner.

" Okay, here's the plan-" Natasha stated, " I'm going to let off a few shots to get them to duck while you get to your feet. Then I'll throw these bad boys out" she gestured to the thick canisters quickly. " Got it?" Natasha demanded, asking for her partners attention rather than an answer.

Clint nodded lightly, trying to remain alert for Natasha's sake. He wouldn't be much of a partner if he passed out now and left her to fend for herself and his sorry ass too.

Without a moments hesitation to even ponder what they were about to attempt, Natasha poked the barrel of her gun out above the steel drums, pointed it in the general direction of their enemy and fired numerous rounds across the 'battle field' while behind her, Clint shakily rose to his feet.

She was almost ashamed that they were retreating so quickly, she had never given up a fight in her sad, miserable life. Not once.

But when you found yourself ambushed by 50 unknown thugs with AK47s, a shot up partner and only 8 bullets left, you took the hint that life was trying to send you a message for once and you got your ass the hell out of there. "Live to fight another day" and all that typical crap. She would have rolled her eyes at the stupid statement if the situation wasn't so dire.

Instead she balled her fists and prepared for their escape, standing as she did so and barely witnessed the suddenly blinding flash out of the corner of her eye, accompanied by a loud crack and yells of surprise, as blinded and deaf thugs fell to the floor clutching their faces as the canisters provided them with meagre cover for their escape.

It was now or never…


	3. Memory Lane

**Thanks for the compliments and follows guys! I hope you're okay with my writing style. I tend to describe a lot or share their thoughts rather than talking. Don't worry they're not mute ****J**** Anyways enjoy!**

The following 60 seconds went by in a blur for SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, one second they were huddled in a corner with no means of escape, a barrage of bullets seeking for their very souls, the next, they were up, out and running for their lives.

Pulse hammering in his head, adrenaline coursing through his veins, Clint attempted to follow his partners lighting quick lead towards the far side of the loading gates, leaving the thugs behind in the haze.

"This way!" Natasha yelled at him, ripping him from his thoughts, pushing past the first set of gates, past the empty security post and taking a sharp left towards the steps leading back to where they'd left their ride only 20 minutes earlier.

Clint obeyed his partners directions without question. He could barely see straight as it was but he trusted her with his life, he trusted that her reasoning and judgement was better than his right now, he trusted that she could save him.

He kept his eyes on the back of her black boots as his vision blurred in and out, keeping his head down and following her like a lost puppy. Wherever those boots went, he was going with them.

His mind began to wander as he concentrated his weak body on following his partner while trying to keep up with her pace.

She endlessly amazed him with her sharp personality and deadly skills. He'd kill to have a woman like that. _Who knew, maybe one day_- Clint ripped those ideas from his mind as soon as he thought them. They were damn professional assassins, not stupid teens with a crush.

Clint tried to focus again and get a grip on reality but his mind didn't want to cooperate. It felt like his brain was beginning to fill up with cotton balls, his usually attuned senses shutting down on him one by one, his motor skills causing him to stumble after her like an idiot.

_He should have seen this ambush coming! Why hadn't he seen this coming? _He seethed.

Clint's boot slipped in the sodden ground suddenly and he struggled to correct himself while staying upright.

_Damn the rain! Why now of all times?_

As they continued on what felt like their 12 mile journey Clint's foggy brain decided it was now a fairly good time to begin dredging up old memories. He tried to focus and shut them out but he just couldn't stop them; he was multi tasking to keep himself going as it was.

At least he had faith that Natasha wouldn't let him drift off too far if he happened to run off course.

He recalled that they'd been together for roughly a year now, that he could admittedly relax around his partner finally. No more _'one eye open at all times' _that kind of shit.

Sure, he'd been the one to open up to the cold blooded Russian assassin in the first place, offering her a job at SHIELD, unable to stop himself from seeing the bigger picture and admiring her for her amazing and unique skill sets.

Of course that didn't mean you could just forget what she was capable of.

He recalled the beginning of it all. The first time he'd seen her on that rooftop in Budapest, lining his sights in between those startling bright green eyes.

All he'd had to do was pull the trigger and he could go home. It had been a long shot, but he knew he'd never miss- that was why SHIELD had him.

But he just _couldn't _do it. He had _no _reason not to at the time. Just a deep stirring from within.

So he'd brought her in. Sure, it had taken convincing-on both sides. He knew he'd been the only one to want her to join, the others saying she was dangerous, that she'd betray them, that she'd burn the agency to the ground and kill every last one of them.

It wasn't that he doubted she could do it but Clint knew better. He knew what it was like out in the cruel world, what it _forced _you to become, what it _forced _you to do. He also knew and strongly believed that no matter what happened, no matter how dark your past was, you could always turn it around or at _least _keep some sane part of you, deep down inside, dry from all the storms in life.

He knew she wasn't all that bad, that there was _something _left deep down in there besides a killer.

_He _could see past all of her masks unlike all others, to the intelligent, humorous, beautiful, brave woman inside. He could _see _that in the long run, she was worth bringing in, even if it was a little risky. He could _see _that they'd only benefit from having her on their side.

He could _see _all of these things back then when no one else could, but then again, he never missed _seeing _anything, so it was almost like he'd been chosen to finally put Natasha Romanov, worlds deadliest Russian assassin, in her place. It seemed rather fitting to him.

Suddenly a vicious slap to the cheek dragged his weary mind back into the present, away from the sudden overwhelming amount of memories that had flooded his brain.

However, when his mind returned to reality, it seemed the world had turned into a sludgy mess. He tried to focus his eyes up at the looming shadow above him, trying to hear the muffled shouts.

It felt like he was witnessing a commotion from deep underwater, unable to decipher any meaning out of it all.

He felt like telling the person to give up, that he couldn't understand anything they were saying, that he wanted nothing to do with whoever they were.

He began to feel suspicious, as the blurred images around him seemed to lose their solid fuzzy forms and melt onto the floor, beginning to feel that what he was seeing wasn't real. That he was dreaming somehow.

The more he thought about it the more he realized how lost he was, that he couldn't remember where he was or what he was doing. Panic swelled in his chest, eyes widening in fear.

He hated feeling afraid, feeling vulnerable. He hated not knowing. Hell, he'd lived half his life in the shadows. Not knowing where to run, where safe was, what he could do to live through another day.

His mind reeled as he began to lose himself in darkened memory lanes once more until he hit a snag. _Was that red hair that he could see cascading over him? _His vision blurred as he tried to focus on it. Teasing him. He'd only seen one person with red hair like that, every day, of every hour, around the world, on numerous missions, right beside him in the heat of a battle-

" T'sh?" Clint mumbled, eyes rolling. Natasha clenched the front of his shirt tightly, so much so that she was holding his folded body up off the floor slightly. There was no way she could carry his heavy mass out of here, no matter how strong she was. He was bigger than her in every sense of the word, most of his weight taken up in bulk and muscle. They were doomed.

He had collapsed without warning, listing to the right suddenly and falling on his face not even trying to catch himself. She'd had to run back for him. No matter how much it had pained her to do so, knowing every minute they wasted, the closer those bastards got to them.

Not that she couldn't take a few out, but she couldn't exactly cover Clint while fighting 50 guys all at once…maybe 20 or even 30 but not 50.

Pulling him up from the sodden cement she tried everything to get him to cooperate but it hadn't mattered.

He'd lost too much blood already, his body had given its best shot at staying up and about, both mentally and physically but it seemed it now wanted a rest and it was damn well going to have one whether Clint and Natasha wanted it to or not.

With a futile slap to the face with as much force as she could muster, Natasha realized how screwed they were. She was almost out of options. Almost.

Dropping her dazed partner to the ground without a second thought, Natasha Romanov fled towards the road, red hair flying out behind her wildly, only taking enough care to watch her footing in the near darkness.

**DUN DUN DUH! Did she really just ditch him?! I guess you'll have to find out ;)**


	4. The Beige Tin Can of Destruction

**So this chapter is a little faster paced with a lot more action. So for all you action lovers out there, Enjoy!**

Rushing across the gravel road, finally free of the ship loading complex Natasha scanned the area for their beat up old car.

It had been bought in purposes of blending into the rough broken down neighbourhood, as they surveyed the area over the past few days, confirming mob targets, monitoring routines and waiting for the 'GO' signal back at HQ. It had all seemed so easy back then…almost too easy.

But there had been _no _tell tale signs that suggested anything was amiss and she was certain that even if she hadn't caught the signs, Clint _would _have.

They had been there a week and monitored it all day before finally going in for the kill, watching and following their targets from the safety of the shadows.

Then out of nowhere there were bullets everywhere! She couldn't't believe she'd missed it! This wasn't her first assignment, so why hadn't she seen it coming? There were so many of them, but she _still _hadn't seen it!

_I must be slipping__…__.maybe, maybe I__'__ve finally cracked__…__ and I don__'__t even know it yet_! Natasha thought horrified.

_No_, that couldn't't be true. She never cracked. Even when she had 'shit' shovelled in her face for the past 22 years, unspeakable horrors filling her past, she had NEVER cracked.

Thinking back, she _had _felt a slight twinge rush through her body before they went in but she hadn't read into it. She was damn well going to in the future after that mistake.

At this point, Natasha wished that they hadn't bought a car that was so good at blending in. It was fulfilling its purpose a little too well for her liking right now.

Rain began to pelt down harder as Natasha scanned the cars along the street, her train of thought going faster than her feet…

It had all gone _so _wrong in a matter of seconds. Cornered and outnumbered and to make matters worse, by some streak of pure luck, a stray bullet had drilled through her partner from somewhere behind them as they'd raced for cover. Talk about rotten luck.

On top of that, they'd also only brought enough weapons and ammo for the hit. They didn't need backup. They'd never needed backup. They were the best there was. If anything, they _were _the backup. It was only one job. Plain and Simple -or it was supposed to have been.

It didn't matter at all now. All that mattered was getting the hell out of here so she could regroup her thoughts and come back with a better strike plan and more importantly HOW THE HELL THINGS HAD FUCKED UP SO BAD.

Screeching to a sudden halt, Natasha stumbled upon their ancient, small, beat up, beige, tin can of a car. Relief washed over Natasha like a tsunami.

_At least weren't totally screwed _she thought with a devilishly wicked grin springing to her face as she recalled her escape plan.

Almost ripping off the door handle Natasha hopped in, slamming the door, ramming the keys into the ignition and stomping her size 9 boot onto the pedal, flooring the car and lurching it forward. This fast motion full out rammed the car in front, unable to turn without moment, knocking it into the next car and the next and the next. Car horns flared up loudly but Natasha was no where near them by then.

She didn't even flinch when she headed straight for the thick barred metallic entry gates to the shipping complex, barrelling full speed into them with such a force that they bent inwards and snapped right off, clattering unceremoniously to the concrete and rattling around loudly.

Refusing to let up off the gas, she raced over to where she had left Clint, spotting him lying where she had left him, unmoving.

It seemed a few of their 'friends' had managed to catch up to him now though and were just raising their weapons at her partners' limp body when Natasha had decided to make her bold, jaw dropping entrance.

Natasha's grin grew into a toothy white smile as she saw her opportunity, a fire flickering to life deep within her crazy green eyes. She didn't let her foot up on the pedal, not even one millimetre.

She was going to enjoy this. _Them_?…not so much.

Close to speeds of 100mph- which was fairly impressive for this little beat up tin can of a car- Natasha barrelled into several of the thugs full force, her already heavily dented hood collecting a few more home run trophies.

As she careened the car around in a tight spin all eyes went wide.

The men had dropped their weapons from Clint's body at this point and were hanging loosely, foolishly in their numb hands, staring in both awe and horror at the useless wreck of a car that had just sent their buddies flying in every direction- some straight under its wheels, leaving behind more than a little tire track.

They'd wasted too much valuable time gawking already to do anything about the red headed madwoman behind the wheel heading straight for them.

In mere seconds she had mowed them all down, quickly and efficiently. There had been no time for screams.

Natasha abruptly stomped her foot on the break, the badly beat up car fishtailing out to a dizzying stop.

It seemed she was in the clear for now, having taken out at least 25 men with her precious ride. She was sure the rest were either on their way or attempting to block any other exists from the complex- just as this group had been attempting to do.

Natasha jumped out of the car and ran over to the passenger side, ripping the door open. She had stopped as close to Clint's limp body as she dared and quickly dragged him the one foot to the passenger door. Now all she had to do was lift him.

That would prove to be a little tricky of course, so she shoved worked up her strength, grabbed him by his armpits and shoved him in, face first, forcing his body to follow.

Unfortunately for Clint, based on what went in the car first would determine where the rest would have to follow and occupy. And so due to his weight and her inability to pick up his entire body, Clint's head ending up going into the foot well, the rest of his body going in and up into the car until his lower back rested on the sitting area and his legs and feet vertically rested on the back of the seat pointing at the roof.

He was in the mini car, _completely _upside down.

Natasha wasn't trying to be purposefully cruel, but it wasn't like she had free time to adjust him considering their situation and so she left him that way.

On the bright side, she thought, at least all of his important organs were protected from getting shot up again, being in such an awkward position and all.

However, she _did _take a mental picture of it for later, storing it in the back of her brain. She would have cackled slightly too but she suppressed the urge for her partners sake. He'd already been shot and ditched once this evening. She could always make fun of him later when he woke up.

Heavy raindrops began to add to the already constant streaming water now, turning into a total down pour all around her, the wind picking up again while thunder cracked overhead.

Slamming the passenger door she headed for the drivers side just as shots rang out from around a far shipping crate. "SHIT!" she growled, unable to help herself.

'_Why couldn't these missions just go right without a hitch for once? You__'__d think since they were the most high fully skilled agents out there, that they would at least have their shit together, but no. Life was just a bitch like that__'_she chided to herself in frustration all amusement long forgotten as her eyes turned cold once more.

Slamming her own door, Natasha stomped her foot on the gas and headed back out the broken gates, down the gravely narrow road away from danger, towards safety and _answers_.

**Well I think that was a pree badass chapter for Nat… her tin can sidekick being kickass too ;) **

**Anyways, looks like we got to see the more dark, humorous side of Nat this time… makes you wonder just what else goes on inside that devious mind of hers under all those masks. Just go to show you that everyone has a sense of humour, even heartless, cold blooded Russian assassins.**


	5. YEBAT

**So this chapter is slightly shorter than usual but its still got **_**some **_**action, plenty of questions and a little cliff at the end, Enjoy!**

They needed to get as far away from there as possible, not _out _of the neighbourhood, not _out _of the area, OUT! As in, '_as from away from this personal slice of hell as fucking possible__'_ Natasha growled.

Her violent thoughts dampened down slightly as she heard a low moan escape from the passenger foot-well beside her.

A slight grin rose to her mouth, tugging at the corner of her lips. She just couldn't help it. She wasn't _enjoying _her partners pain, merely relishing at the sight of his position. It was hilarious! Besides, it only appeared to be a flesh wound, he'd survived much worse.

Clint let out another low moan, his face taking up a little colour in his cheeks as the little blood he had remaining in his body rushed to his face.

Natasha rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. She wanted to stop for his sake but the rational part of her brain said they couldn't exactly stop so close from the shipping complex. She knew those thugs wouldn't give up that easily. After all, she _had _just mowed down 30 of their 'best' men after all.

She quickly glanced in her rear view mirror before darting her eyes back to the narrow hallway of a road. She hoped the road didn't get any narrower or she'd be driving horizontally on a wall.

_What was with these tiny, windy Italian streets anyway? Why were they made for only one car going one way? _It made no logical sense!

They were only a few blocks out now, surrounded by ancient brick terraced walls scraping along her side view mirrors. There was no light down here, that was how much room there was!

_They couldn't even manage one single lamp post on the damn 30 yard stretch?!_ It was like a dimly lit hallway/maze made out of pure brick and windows.

On the _bright _side at least she wouldn't be spotted in this gloom.

Natasha suddenly took a sharp left down another side alleyway, then a sharp right at the end, then another two lefts and a second right. She had no idea where she was headed. She didn't DARE go back to their temporary lodging back at the run down apartment they'd been set up with.

If they'd been ambushed it meant someone had been watching them, very, very closely. They probably had their place cover in trip wires already. She wouldn't have expected anything less.

_If they hadn__'__t, well, that just meant they were the luckiest dumb thugs she__'__d ever been ambushed by._

The only thing racing through her mind right now was to get the hell out. Some place safe. Where they could rest. Where she could fix her partner up. Where she could get some damn answers!

She took another sharp left and found herself speeding towards a sudden dead end. "YEBAT!" she cussed out in Russian, slamming her boot down on the break. The tin can car sliding to a stop, screeching out in protest.

The wheels only just managed to dig into the cobble stones after slipping a few feet closer to the crumbling brick wall before dropping the back tires down with a heavy dull noise.

She was proud of this car. She patted her leather gloves over the shredded steering wheel with affection while glancing through the rear view mirror once more. No one there. It was like a ghost town around here. It was _only _9pm.

Natasha squinted her eyes suspiciously, leaning forwards to look through the windshield up at the closed shutters either side of their head above them. They would be sitting ducks if anyone stuck a gun out at them right now. Shivering at the thought, Natasha jammed the clutch into reverse and attempted to back them out slowly. Nothing happened.

Natasha pushed her foot down on the pedal a little more insistently this time, urging the tin can to reverse. Nothing.

That's when she heard an awfully sounding strangled noise accompanied with some gurgling from somewhere in front of her. Her heart jumped painfully up into her throat, preventing her from breathing, the blood in her veins turning to ice.

Natasha whipped her head around and stared at Clint's shadowed face hidden deep in the foot-well fearing the worst.

Sure he could be an intolerable bastard. She'd wanted to shoot him numerous times just to shut him up, but she'd never done it.

She'd known him so long now, been through so much together that she doubted she could really harm him if she wanted to any more. He probably already knew that too.

Reaching forwards and bending over quickly she pressed two fingers awkwardly to his jugular searching for a pulse. _God please don__'__t let him be dead! Please, please, please, please, please, please! _She begged. Natasha had NEVER begged.

**I feel so evil for leaving a cliff hanger but I had to, please don't kill me ;)**


	6. Pit Stop

**Hello again! I just thought I'd better tell you guys I'll be updating now when I can since essays are surpassing my ability to lead a social life. I will be able to do the most work on weekends so from now on things may go a little slower but please bare with me. Anyways, Enjoy!**

She found his pulse after what felt like forever. But it was there. A little too quick and thready for her comfort. But it was there.

The gurgling noise sounded again. Natasha's eyes growing twice their usual size. Panic flooded her system.

Until she realized it wasn't her partner making that noise.

Natasha's heart froze for a second time as she rocketed, bolt upright in her seat ready for anything whether that meant man, beast, pet elephant, ANYTHING. Turning just in time Natasha witnessed her favourite little car puff a thick cloud of grey smoke from under its crumpled hood.

Sighing heavily, she looked back at the car. After all it had accomplished it had finally given up.

Who said you needed a flashy, souped up getaway ride with lasers, shiny rims, hidden martini glasses and a sun roof when you could have this beige looking FANTASTIC piles of crap? Plus it was way cheaper!

She frowned then, her eyebrows knitting together as she realized what this meant.

They were stuck here.

Sighing, she looked back at her partner worriedly. He needed a doctor. He'd needed one twenty minutes ago too. It looked like they were going to have to make a few friends.

She opened her door as much as she could between the brick wall and her seat- which was about half a foot. _God damn it! Could nothing go right?_

Slamming her door shut in frustration Natasha mulled over their options quickly, staring out the cracked and grimy windshield.

So far, barely five minutes had passed since the chase. Time flew when you were having fun.

Suddenly she had an idea.

Rolling herself into her chest, Natasha brought her legs up onto the dashboard and suddenly kicked out at the windshield, shattering the glass into oblivion. Unfurling herself she slid out onto the uneven hood of the car, pulling onto Clint's boots and swivelling him slightly around.

This was going to be hell. She just hoped she didn't break his neck in the process. That would be such a moment ruiner.

Natasha had to sweep inside the car several times to readjust, pick up, move and turn Clint's body into an upright position, then face him 180 degrees around before she could even pull him out.

By the time she _had _she was sweating and panting like crazy.

She dropped him to the floor and jogged over to the closest door in the alley. Its old green paint was curling off the wood, the bricks falling out around it and crumbling into dust all around her feet. There was also a single shutter above her but that was it. From there, it was about nine feet wide, before the next, identical 'house' began.

Not bothering to knock, she booted down the door easily. She wasn't exactly the _good _guy here, nor did she feel inclined to ask for permission.

They needed a place to stay for the night. They were desperate. They were going to get what they wanted for once.

As she jogged back over to Clint and tugged him upwards she could hear a stumbling noise echo out through the open door way.

Without hesitating, Natasha dragged Clint towards and through the doorway, attempting to kick it shut as she continued to drag his limp body through the dim centre room to what looked like the couch of death and despair.

Walking over a moth eaten rug, Natasha dropped her partner onto the couch, lying his body out and dropping to her knees so she could finally see what damage had been done.

She'd only just managed to pull away his sodden black clad jacket before she heard something stumbling down the rickety stairs she'd passed by at the door, behind her.

Whipping around, she faced off a grisly looking man in his mid sixties.

Weeks worth of grey stubble covered his chin, with beady, cruel black eyes either side of a flattened nose, his extremely dark tanned Italian skin almost blending him into the dim stained wall paper behind him. He was dressed in rough jeans, a white dirty tank top and a holy night gown.

She took all this in in a matter of seconds, accustomed to surveying every feature on people, assessing their threat and memorizing them on the spot.

He was the kind of guy you watched out for in alley ways. The kind of guy who looked pissed and suspicious of everything and everyone at the same time. The kind of guy that carried a gun.

Natasha's eyes flickered down to his grubby hands. _Great_/ A gun. And he was pointing it right at her head.

**I think we all honestly know the outcome of this right? I guess the only question is… what if he's got backup?**


	7. Curly, Larry & Moe

**So I tried to fix Clint up in the chapter without any medical knowledge whatsoever. I didn****'****t exactly go into detail so it wouldn****'****t loose **_**too **_**much believability. I****'****m focusing my ****'****realistic****'**** energy on the plotline. **

**Anyways, enough rambling, Enjoy!**

Natasha grinned, relishing in the thought of this challenge. Well if you could call it that. She'd handled much worse than one scraggly old dude with a 9mm.

Before he could even make a move, Natasha had already strode over to him, whipped her fist into his throat, ripped the gun from his hand and swept a long leg behind his knees.

It had all happened so fast, that she'd even had enough time to witness the effects one by one.

His eyes had grown wide with pain filled tears and then suddenly collapsed, his head colliding with the wall, leaving a small dent, before sprawling harmlessly onto the ground, unconscious.

If anything, his bumbling fiasco had only spiced up the décor, the crimson stain from his head mingling with the dirt was seemingly the only colour left in the room besides shades of grey and black.

'_Life__'__s too boring being an assassin sometimes__'_Natasha confirmed.

She'd been able to take him down effortlessly.

She probably could have been just as effective while being completely blindfolded _and _frying an egg _and _playing the clarinet _and _making dinner plans for next Saturday.

Not that she had any kind of social life but damn, this was getting way to easy.

She could have taken him out with a paperclip if she'd wanted to, just to make things interesting again.

Natasha quickly assessed that the man was no longer a threat since he was unconscious and strode back over to her partner on the couch. She peeled up his sodden shirt and searched for the bullet hole, finding the small puckered entry wound on his left side, just below his ribs. Hopefully, it was just a flesh wound like it appeared to be.

Wiggling her fingers under his back she felt around for the exit and gladly found one. At least he wouldn't need any major surgery while they were out in the field.

Quickly she patted down her many pockets on her thighs, feeling through the tight, overloaded pouches as she searched for medical supplies.

" _Kubotan, nope, switchblade, nope, wire, semtex, stars, rope, knuckles, scopes, gloves, comms, trackers, feeds, bugs, hook- Yes!__"_Natasha declared.

_Man oh man was she prepared for everything. _

_Well__…__not an ambush_- the rogue thought argued, Natasha growled furiously as her thoughts returned to the ambush.

_God damn it! Who ever had set them up was going to pay. She would kill every last fucking one without batting an eyelash. They would pay for shooting her partner. _

_Only she was allowed to consider something like that._

She quickly doused the inflamed wound in antiseptics, Clint hissed out in pain but thankfully remained down for the count.

She then laced a small hook with some spare thread she'd retrieved from a secondary pocket on her shin and bent over Clint's wound and delicately began stitching up the small hole.

The smooth of his stomach rose and fell unevenly in the stress but it had not appeared hardened yet. Natasha acknowledged that as a good sign, as she recounted her basic medical training. Hard skin equalled internal bleeding, she recited mentally. Hard=bad, soft=good. She could remember that.

So far, so good. She hoped the bullet hadn't done too much damage inside. She had no experience in the surgical field. But at least if she covered the hole, nourished his system and gave him a couple hours, he couldn't bleed out on the floor everywhere.

The medics could do the rest when she could contact SHIELD to pick them up. It was next on her list of 'to-do's' anyway.

After stitching up his front, Natasha awkwardly turned him onto his side and prepared to stitch the slightly larger whole on his back when she heard more shuffled movements coming from the stairway area.

Glaring around at the noise, Natasha was surprised to see several new comers standing on the stair way, peering ruefully down at their comrade before sending looks of hatred her way.

_Ugh! Couldn__'__t they see she was busy?_

Natasha rose to her feet, bloody hook and thread in one hand and calmly stated, _"__ If you want to keep your eyes in their sockets, back off now__"_her voice grinding out the threat in fluent Italian. She knew she'd make good on it too if they approached them in any way.

Curly, Larry and Moe- as Natasha had instantly dubbed the trio (due to their features and dumb facial expressions) stared at her in both awe and shock.

The smaller, more gangly looking of the crooks seemed to pale in the dim light leaking out from upstairs but somehow held their ground, barely. She might look like a cute little re head, but her eyes seemed to say something else for her character entirely. It was downright scary.

Natasha could almost see the conflicting thoughts running through their puny brains, following their probable line of thought as she glared menacingly up at them.

"_Should we do it?__"_and "_She looks bat-shit insane_" and most likely " _maybe we should run__"_played across their faces. Natasha smiled.

They were puppies- no- _fleas _compared to her.

Feeling safe enough that they wouldn't dare move now, she cautiously bent back over her partner and resumed her work, one eye watching them always, one on the task at hand.

After a few moments of intense silence, one of the three crooks took a shot at their invasive house guest.

" _You better get out of here a__'__ fore I take your pretty little head off, hot stuff__"_ he growled in Italian, Natasha translating easily through years of experience.

His voice however still sounded uneasy, his posture suggesting that he was bracing himself for a storm.

Natasha smiled but didn't stop sowing, " _I won__'__t warn you again_" she promised, her voice eerily low.

Had a visitor stepped in at this point, they wouldn't have been able to tell the woman was in any danger at all as Natasha sowed away at her own pace as if patching a quilt instead of a body, a smirk on her face, body seemingly relaxed.

The fact that three grown men however, were practically plastering themselves into the wall, frozen in place was the one key hint that seemed to state that there was _definitely _something going on here.

Their unconscious friend sprawled at their feet seeming to prove their case.

The intense silence continued for a few more minutes, the men weighing their options. Eventually one of them offered up a solution, though it felt more like a one sided compromise. It looked like they just wanted to retreat as soon as possible.

" _Fine, you can stay the night, but we__'__ll be watching you, so don__'__t try anything or we__'__ll put a bullet through your skull -and your little friends too__"_he stated trying to sound as mean as possible. It wasn't working.

Natasha smiled inwardly, she could kill them all right now if she wanted. She wouldn't regret it nor care or even take pity on them like she knew Clint would have.

He _always _played the hero.

But she was tired. She didn't _need _to do something that apparently wasn't necessary if they were willing to back off.

_Whatever made them feel better about themselves was fine with her, as long as they stayed out of her god damn business. _

She acknowledged their plea with a slight nod, her eyes boring holes into their souls while they quickly high tailed it up the stairs to the safety of their room, their limp friend flopping along with them.

She would bet they'd be talking about her no doubt, discussing how they could get rid of her and possibly steal all her stuff afterwards.

Natasha finished stitching up her partner, pulled some gauze out of her pocket and awkwardly bandaged his side to apply some pressure. He was still pale as ever to her dismay. He would need a transfusion. Good thing she was O+.

Seconds later, blood was flowing freely from her arm into the intravenous bag Natasha had fished from her bottomless pockets, along with the other necessary equipment to help her partner. As she waited for the bag to fill, Natasha tried yet again to come up with a plausible answer concerning the earlier ambush.

As she ran through a mental list of her existing deadly enemies, a heavy thud sounded from above, accompanied by loud angry shouting. Looks like her first attacker had finally come to his senses and was pissed about getting his ass kicked by a girl. She could already tell trouble was on its way. _All kinds _of trouble based on her totally screwed up day.

It was going to be one hell of a long night.

**So I know this chapter didn****'****t accomplish much but they needed a break to sort some important things out. Plot twist coming up guys! Wanna take a wild guess? ;)**


	8. The Scary Truth

**So over the course of this looong chapter there isn****'****t much action but there IS a plot twist and for some unexplained reason I keep adding humour in. I know I try to make it dark-they **_**are **_**assassins- but for some reason it seems to be changing a little. Let me know what you think of it, Good/Bad idea? Anyways, Enjoy! **

Setting Clint up with the IV of her blood and dangling it above him from a mashed up coat hanger she'd scrounged up, Natasha turned her fuzzy mind back to SHIELD.

She then quickly took a seat, propping her back up against the wall facing her sleeping partner.

It wasn't every day that she shed a few bags of blood for someone.

Luckily for his sake, she'd be able to give away a lot more free blood than a normal person might.

The enhancers now coursing through her veins since her early tormented childhood days at Red Room gave her a boost in health, in every meaning of the word, literally turning her into some kind of freaky version of that hairy wolf guy from those x men movies.

_What was his name- Hogan? Locust? Logan? Yes! That was it! __…__.Almost like Loca, an old accomplice of hers. _

_Man, names these days__…__ It seemed like when you just run out of ideas for names its fine to just label or brand them after a planet, fruit, car or train, like, __'__Hey! Why not!?__'_

Natasha sighed and rolled her eyes at the thought, trying to focused her mind again.

They needed to get out of here. The enemy on their tail had proven to be surprisingly resourceful so far, _eerily _so.

It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest if they'd somehow picked up the lead on them again and followed her to this very location- that she quickly realized had nothing within to help defend themselves, except her few close quarter weapons. That wouldn't cut it.

It _was _possible that perhaps the sheer and blinding ugliness of the décor could possibly do their eyes some damage, stunning them and giving her enough time to escape or attack… but that was probably just wishful thinking.

Or more accurately, her light headedness talking.

She might be enhanced, but the healing still took its time, even _if _it was considered inhumanly fast.

She had to stop dawdling and act. NOW. Before both her luck and time ran out. She had to contact SHIELD. But how?

Natasha's keen eyes scanned the darkness of the room, looking for any possible tools she could use to her advantage. Spotting a door down the hall, Natasha got steadily to her feet, checked on Clint one more time-who was sound asleep- and walked the few feet over to the door.

Twisting the knob, she was surprised to find it unlocked.

Cautiously, Natasha cracked open the door a few millimetres, peering in and _down_?

Opening the door slowly she then noticed small, stone steps leading down into an abyss of darkness. _A basement!_

Finding a switch on the wall, she tapped at it lightly. No electricity. _Great_.

She took a few cautious steps down , waiting for something, anything to happen.

Nothing did.

It was still a little too quiet for her liking, but she proceeded. Nothing in this household was a threat to her anyway. It would be better that she used her time wisely and figure out a way to get herself and Clint away from this 'mess' rather than waiting until later when it might be too late to do anything.

Silently, she floated further down the steps until she reached the bottom into the darkness below. Even the scorching heat of Italy in summer was completely lost down here.

A chill managed to find her spine and sent shivers throughout her body. She stopped it immediately. She wouldn't be caught losing control of her body, ever. People would see her as weak. Sure, it was a slightly paranoid point of view, but it held _some _truth.

Attempting to adjust her eyes to the darkness, Natasha scanned the room. The large space looked relatively clean compared to the rest of the ruined old house.

Almost as if it was used regularly.

The longer Natasha stayed, the better her eyes became and the more closely she was able to inspect it which was when she came to realize that every item in here appeared to be brand new.

Judging on the characters upstairs, it became obvious that they could in no way afford such fanciful, high tech gadgets that she saw stacked down here. They had to be thieves.

Natasha smiled a brilliantly white smile to herself in the gloom, it was the biggest smile she'd had in a long, _long _time.

'HALLELUJAH!' she screamed in joy-on the inside. They were saved! Thank god for thieves and their greedy ways!

There was so much tech gear down here that she almost felt confident that they could build their own personal bunker down here, perhaps defend it with an empire of a thousand robots and then build nuclear weapons in their spare time. Destroy those bastards for shooting her partner, threatening her life and ruining their mission.

Alas, it was probably just wishful thinking, _again_.

_Damn blood loss and its after effects were literally driving her insane._

After inspecting numerous devices Natasha stumbled upon a promising looking laptop collection. Smiling her toothy grin once more, she idly picked up five and juggled them in her arms back up the stairs to her partner.

This was the best damn luck she'd EVER had on a mission. _So _unlikely and convenient she almost felt suspicious. It was further out than one in a million.

_This _was the jackpot of 'ancient houses' if she'd ever seen one.

Screw those mansions! She wanted a basement collection like this instead.

_Maybe I should take up thievery as a side job from SHIELD if I__'__m ever forced to take time off__…__ Maybe reintroduce my partner back into the criminal night life__…_Natasha thought evilly.

Closing the door and padding quietly back over to the main room, Natasha carefully laid down the collection of laptops on the thread bare floor. At this point Clint was snoring obnoxiously, drool sliding out of his mouth and wetting the sofa of death.

_Yeah, he was going to be just fine. Back to his annoying self in no time._

Natasha grabbed a silver light blue laptop, flipped open the lid, booting the system up until she reached the first page. The words read '**parola d****'****ordine****'**or in English, 'password.'

Cracking her third smile of the day, she hastily rummaged through her pockets once more for the scrambler she knew she carried.

If her partner or anyone else back at SHIELD had been able to witness the amount of smiling she'd been doing lately, they'd think one of two things.

One: she'd finally gone off the deep end, or less likely, Two: Natasha Romanov had gone 'soft.'

Finally gripping her hands around the scrambler, Natasha inserted it into the USB drive and let it work its magic as Clint and other Americans commonly said. Within seconds, she was in.

After a few minutes, Natasha found herself on a baked goods cite-the secret entrance to the world network of SHIELD files and databases. Most importantly, it had a direct feed and instant messaging.

Of course, for the worlds best trained assassins and brilliant minds of the world, the website was more than a little childish and corny for their liking. To do such a thing with such an impressive underground agency was almost disgraceful. But then again that was the point. That's what made it so ingenious. It was the last place you'd _ever _look.

God forbid you ever went there to bake a cake though. With these kind of recipes you'd be closer to inventing Frankenstein than your family pot-roast.

She could just imagine Director Fury slumped over his laptop, mashing together random recipes to give the site a real look to it from an off glance.

Now, Natasha was no cook but even _she _could tell that eggs and strawberries did NOT mix, no matter how you assembled them.

Entering numerous site portals, Natasha searched for any gateway she recognized that could allow her to message SHIELD director Fury and warn them of their dangerous predicament. He would no doubt be beyond pissed, but that was insignificant right now.

As she browsed through the pages, Natasha suddenly stumbled upon a bone chilling announcement.

It was somewhat of a wanted poster and it took up half of the second page. It had Natasha Romanov and Clint Barton plastered across the headline in big bold letters.

The message below stating they had gone rogue, as in 'completely off the grid' and were wanted by the organization IMMEDIANTLY.

It continued to state in bold letters that if any agent had any knowledge of their where-abouts or information about the duo, that they were NOT to approach them but contact Director Fury right away. They would no doubt get their next best agents on their asses though-seeing as they'd somehow gone 'rogue'.

Unable to believe what she was reading, Natasha reread the page several times, the glow from the screen illuminating her intense facial features in the darkness.

Finally unable to read any more, Natasha erupted into a silent outrage.

_They were wanted? They had gone rogue? Where was all this crap coming from?_

Someone had obviously gone to a _lot _of trouble to put out such a lie as this and somehow convince _every _operative that they were now the enemy and could be treated as such!

If Fury had allowed this message to stay up, well, they were well and truly fucked.

It was like they had a pack of savage wolves pretty much right on their tail! Their own organization had been duped and were now their enemy…master assassins were probably on their way to their location this very instant…and she hadn't even figured out how to escape the last set of thugs that were searching for them yet!

Natasha was at a loss for once in her life.

What could she possibly do to fix this mess when half the world seemed to want to hunt them down and either kill them or rip them to shreds? Both the Good guys _and _the Bad guys.

Boy, was she ever going to have story to tell Clint when he woke up.

**Ooooh plot twist! ):) Even I didn****'****t see that coming till I thought it up randomly a few hours ago. I guess we****'****ll both have to wait and find out what happens next!**


	9. Rude Awakening

**So here****'****s a looong chapter with a lot of emotional turmoil as they both come to terms with their dangerous predicament****…**** there is quite a bit of swearing****…**

**I know this is rated T****…****(for some reason it wont let me switch it back to M for coarse language)****…**** but I don****'****t think you guys really care either way****…**** but im just warning you regardless ;)**

**Anyways, Enjoy!**

After 15 minutes of seething in silence, Natasha decided she couldn't wait for her partner to wake up. She needed him now. They were in enough shit as it was and she couldn't just wait around until it hit the fan and finally found them.

Stomping over to her sleeping partner, she knelt down beside him and roughly shook him awake.

With a past like theirs, they were both extremely light sleepers, so considering Natasha had just turned his dream realm into an earthquake, Clint's eyes shot wide open and his fists shot up either side of his face, his body completely rigid. It was a reflex they both shared. You had to be prepared for anything.

"_What! What__'__s going on? Where am I!__"_Clint demanded in quick succession. He stood to his feet a little too quickly, his eyes becoming unfocused as he tried to catch up, a sharp pain entering his left side, forcing him to bend over and clutch it.

" _You got shot dumb ass-__"_Natasha informed him coldly. She didn't pause when she saw his eyes darken slightly, realizing he had put a strain on his partner in need, a shameful frown quickly appearing.

" _Listen, we have no time to reminisce, we need to get out of here NOW. They could come at any minute!__"_Natasha stated, transferring her urgency through her tone, but her face remained neutral.

She needed him to understand, not get caught up in the emotions. He did that _way _too much for her liking as it was.

Clint resisted the strong urge to question her motives but decided to heed her warning to make haste rather than cause he more trouble than he already had.

He would definitely talk to her about all this later. He had to apologize for his unforgivable mistake even if _he _would never let it go and remind her to leave his sorry ass when she had to, instead of being an idiot and endangering herself even more.

He locked these future notes away in the back of his mind and turned on the more efficient and serious agent he knew he could be. He scanned the room as he picked up a few medical items- she'd no doubt patched him up.

Attempting to distract his worried mind from venturing further, he allowed his keen senses to sweep and inspect the room while he continued to gather and pack.

It was a fairly small room wherever they were…low ceilings, arched and scratched up old door, wooden floorboards, moth eaten curtain, rugs, pillows and sofa- if you could call it that. He was surprised he hadn't been smothered by the layers of thick dust while he was sleeping.

His thoughts suddenly barrelling him back to his shameful behaviour. Sleeping in the middle of a mission! Leaving his partner all alone! How could he have been so cruel? Clints cheeks flushed and he grit his teeth.

'_Shut it down Clint__'_he commanded himself roughly. He complied instantly, attempting to observe his surroundings with fake interest once again.

Decaying tapestries hung around, a thick musty smell coated the air heavily leaving a bad taste in his mouth. The remaining décor seemed to suggest it was from another era yet the house had been left to rot…why? Clint easily worked up a storm in his head, he deduced his partner must have driven them quite a few blocks into the next villa. It looked an older, more battle torn part of Italy… Naples! It made sense… it was where there were scarce jobs and no money… but plenty of thugs and criminals.

He had finally run out of patience. The jog around the block he'd been trying to give his over reactive mind was only adding to pile of questions he had already stacked to the top of his brain. He now needed answers.

"_Tasha?__"_Clint called softly_. _His partners brilliant green eyes turned to him and looked him over, annoyed to see his curios gaze and building tension within him.

" _Not now Barton-__"_she replied impatiently. _"__ -we need to get out! All you need to know, is that in a matter of minutes, this place could be swarming with thrice as many guys you saw at the complex and trust me, they__'__re way more deadly.__"_

Clints' stormy eyes filled with conflicting anger and worry but he clamped down on the wriggling doubts and fears.

_He was a soldier. He would handle this professionally. _

Wincing as he bent down to grab his pack, he quickly headed out the door after his partner, leaving behind the strange old house he'd found himself in.

As he looked back over his shoulder to assess their camp he noticed four crowded figures in the upstairs window, pressed against the dirty glass.

They seemed pissed…but his keen sight detected something else. Something like relief mixed with fear.

He smirked lightly as his dark worries were momentarily replaced with a warm feeling in his gut as he instantly recognized the familiar looking fear in their eyes and knowing the probable cause for their hesitant glares.

The answer was standing in front of him, with short red hair, strong but feminine build, clad in black leather, with a perfect physique and killer eyes.

He sighed as he turned back toward a burnt out metal shell that was barring their narrow path. Small chippings of paint hinted the car may have once been a rusty beige colour… _Wait a minute!__…_

Having become distracted, Clint suddenly walked right into his partner. The slight impact jarring his side painfully sending waves of fire to his ribs. He winced slightly but he didn't let any noise escape.

Natasha shot him one of her many deadly glare that could melt a candle stick. However, he was completely unfazed by her common glare and so he shot her one of his famous, _'__ I don__'__t care__'__, _playful grins that he knew tore her up on the inside. He saw he shoulders tense, he hands balling into small, powerful fists of fury.

_Oh how he loved to tease her._

" _Do that again Barton and you won__'__t have to worry about SHIELD coming down on our asses__"_she threatened.

Her threat never registered. Clint stood there frozen in shock at her wild confession, unable to breathe. Though he was stationary on the outside his mind was reeling at a hundred miles an hour on the inside as he tried to rationally analyze the information she had mistakenly admitted.

_They were being hunted by SHIELD! WHY? What had they done? Is it because they missed the hit? One failure and they deserved to die? It wasn__'__t even that important...or was it? Did they believe he was compromised? Had their __'__term__'__ finally run out? Were they deemed un-useful? What had he done wrong! Who had authorized their dismissal? WHY, WHY, WHY! _

He almost cried out in frustration as the paranoid thoughts doubled, then tripled in his furiously working brain, the motions causing his head to throb. He'd had plenty of doubts about trusting these people. After the shitty life he'd lived, he'd had trouble trusting any one ever again, it had been wise to do so. But it looked like he'd settled down to prematurely and now that he'd finally become comfortable they'd….crossed him?

He wanted-no- he _needed _answers now, and she was damn well going to tell him! He didn't care about their urgent need to escape now. If they were being hunted, he would fight. He was no coward. He almost couldn't believe that she wanted to run… and for the second time now too!

" _Clint, move NOW!__"_Natasha growled, grabbing his roughly by the shoulders and tugging him up towards the front of the burnt out hood. This was probably the glimmer she'd seen last night… it looked like someone had used their car for a midnight barbeque.

He refused to move his rigid form and she couldn't make him. She glared intensely into his eyes. She could normally melt a person with her fierce gaze, but she'd acknowledged and accepted that somehow it had never worked on him.

Clints eyes were full of fury, he glared down at her and demanded in a dark booming voice, _"__Why Natasha? Why do we have to move? You obviously know more than you__'__re letting on! So tell me, WHY!__"_

Natasha resisted the urge to hit him and just drag his stubborn ass away but she knew she wouldn't make it far on her own. Not now. She hated to admit it but she needed him watching her back.

" _I don__'__t know Barton!__"_she screamed back just as fiercely, her eyes burning hole into his.

" _I don__'__t know why SHIELD cut us off and has messages up that we betrayed them! I don__'__t know why there are a crap load of people following are every move! I don__'__t know why or who set us up! But I do know that they__'__ll be here any minute, so move your fucking ass now Barton or you__'__ll regret you ever knew me!__"_

Clint was a little taken back by his partners sudden outburst but hid his emotions behind a strong mask and matched her furious gaze. He could have continued his little rant but he knew she was telling the truth. He also knew she'd follow through on her threat. She would take him down if she needed to. Natasha probably wouldn't _kill _him though but she wasn't past beating his ass black and blue, disguising his broken form and then landing him in hospital where she would hide him from their pursuers.

It may have worked long enough for them to escape watchful eyes and perhaps manage to regroup but he wasn't about to let her handle this on her own, again, or beat his ass either, like he knew she could.

He let out a frustrated sigh signalling his defeat and that he would obey. She continued to glare at him for another few seconds, allowing him to feel her victory before she sharply turned around, hopped up onto the hood and climbed over the car, landing on the other side. Clint was right behind her.

**Well that was a pretty rude waking call for Clint huh? Looks like there****'****s a lot of tension between the two, but that****'****s only because they care for each other. You have to look out for one another in this line of work, after all, each other is all they****'****ve got left****…****mushy I know****…****but if you think about it, its true!**


	10. Followed

**So anyways, there****'****s finally action in this one! It was **_**just **_**too long for one chapter but when cut its it slightly shorter than usual****…**** On the bright side, there****'****s twice as much action ;) **

**I will be posting them close together anyways as long as I can add new chapters to this story- I always like to stay one ahead of you for planning purposes and editing****…**** Took me a while to write this two for one but hopefully its as good as I feel it is. **

**Anyways, Enjoy! ;)**

Setting their pace to a brisk jog was about as fast as Clint could manage in his condition and so they steadily jogged through the criss-crossed passage ways. Their silence was brittle, the tension was heated. You could almost hear the heated arguments warring on inside their heads but neither one spoke.

Now was not the time to be childish and have a temper tantrum. Being stupid got you killed in this line of work. They were not stupid.

Dawn was approaching just on the horizon at this point. The red shingles on the tops of old roofs beginning to dazzle in the suns fierce rays. It was going to be another sweltering hot day.

Natasha tried to remember the street grid she'd been given to bring them to the shipping complex. It had been a week ago now since she'd seen it. She'd been informed that they would have been extracted from the area after the hit, so she hadn't bothered to memorize the map. Just another stupid mistake to add to her list she noted furiously.

She could hear her partner panting in the background. His bullet wound was no doubt putting some strain on his body but she felt confident he could handle it. He hadn't slowed the pace and he seemed alert as ever, scanning the rooftops with his cold blue eyes.

In some dark, corner of her mind, Natasha was glad she had _him _to watch her back.

Suddenly the road they had been following came to an abrupt opening. A large, ancient looking town square was beginning to bustle with signs of life. It was after all a week day for normal people and so they would naturally be getting up at around 6am to go to work.

Stopping to replenish her partners energy, Natasha took the time to analyze the town square. It looked like the people had tried to pool their effort into this centralized area where they could not with their crumbling houses. It looked almost pleasant now compared to the claustrophobic dark alleys they had just been enshrouded with.

Looking around there was shrubbery everywhere, decorated as bushes or thriving flower baskets, hedges on the round about seeming to swirl dizzily. Encircling the round about were numerous tiny stores and bakeries all crowded together, demanding equal space. Large offices stood over these stores and statues were balanced on top of that. There were a few specialized buildings for tourists here also. Perfect.

Turning back to her partner she could see he'd been doing the same thing, if not a little more in detail, what with his 'I see everything' motto. '_Pshh, gimme__'__ a break!__'_she thought as she rolled her eyes.

He caught her in the act and arched an eyebrow curiously. However before she could respond, several roof shingles suddenly fell between them from above, causing them to pitch their heads upwards. Above them stood a repair man in dark overalls equipped with a tool bag. Had he not appeared overly suspicious, the duo would have probably classified him as careless. But his beady eyes seemed to intent, to focused on them to be normal.

Their eyes growing wide as they realized they'd been found, Clint and Natasha dashed out of the alley and into the bustling town life. The man instantly dropped his fake tools to the roof and put a finger to his ear, appearing to be talking to himself.

Of course if you didn't live under a rock, the mans gesture would have been obvious. He was talking to someone that didn't want to be seen. Someone dangerous. And where there was one….

Wasting no time looking for other suspicious repair men, Clint and Natasha tried to dodge behind cover as they cautiously circled their way around the town square, trying to go unnoticed while getting as far away as possible. Luckily for them, every one was up an about now.

Step by step they began blending into their surroundings, sneakily swiping small pieces of clothing for sale to replace with an article of clothing on their body until they were completely changed apart from their shoes and pants. Clint even added an apple to the disguise as he stealthy grabbed one from a small market stand and threw his partner a pear.

He then appeared to nonchalantly view the crowd, though through his act he was intensely searching _every _face, _every _movement, looking for any quirks or sudden movements and strangely finding none. That didn't mean they weren't there…

They were _good_. Really good to be fooling to highly trained master assassins. Whoever '_they__'_were anyway.

Suddenly, he noticed Natasha's step faulter ever so slightly by his side as she tensed at some unseen danger and attempted to change her direction by a degree, pushing him away.

He followed her gaze over to a man with a brief case and a flowery shirt. The supposed tourist was leaning against a wall with a short stocky woman.

Neither of them he noticed was showing much of any emotion like a normal tourist would. No excitement of being in a new place, not even an emotion that might explain their lack of happiness at being there.

They didn't have a tan or even a sun burn- something that might prove that they had been here for a while- instead of their pale skin that suggested they arrived within the day. Which was controversial when one closely examined the small amount of luggage they carried, also suggesting they weren't planning on staying long.

No, they just stood there. A little too stiffly. A cold, calculated and purposeful gaze that swept over the town square.

They were hunting for agents. Specifically, Agent Barton and Agent Romanov.

**Yay, suspense! I have a love/hate relationship with that genre****…****probably cuz its too damn intense ;) Anyways, part 2 of this coming soon. Thanks a lot to the people who constantly review/follow btw, it makes me want to write more. You guys make me smile in the funniest ways ;) lol that sounded soooo creepy****…****.. **


	11. Found

**Part 2, Thanks so much for the lovely reviews guys! **

**To all who followed, I appreciate it greatly! To all who review thanks so much for the encouragement and criticism!**

**To those mysterious guest reviewers thanks for all the compliments! And to those who are new or haven****'****t reviewed/followed I hope you****'****re enjoying this as much as I am!**

**I****'****m glad you guys are liking this story****…****I****'****m silently relieved to suddenly get feedback (since I hadn****'****t had any in my inbox for a few days since the site crashed.)**

**Then I found my inbox doesn't show all my reviews at all-only if I replied to the first few ):s**

**Im soooo glad I have a pm email because otherwise I wouldn****'****t have any feedback from you guys at all! I even started to think the twist id made was a fail bc no one cared/said anything at all LOL****…****stupid faulty fanfic inbox doesn****'****t tell me anything ;p**

**Sorry, im ranting again I just had to say thx with a loong explanation!**

**Anyways, Enjoy!**

Clint stealthily signalled his partner to break from his side, gesturing a hidden hand over towards a large, grey, old tourist looking museum about sixty paces ahead.

Natasha briefly met his gaze, acknowledging the plan before she began quickly distancing herself from his presence and blending further into the crowd.

This should make it easier to escape. They were looking for _partners_, not single tourists.

He didn't get his hopes up though, this adversary -whether it was SHIELD agents or the mysterious enemy following them- had shown them, on numerous occasions, how smart they were. And in this world, smart meant dangerous.

At a seemingly relaxed pace, Clint walked towards the targeted building, his muscles tense, ready for anything. He slid his clod blue eyes lazily across the crowd, idly scratching at the light stubble on his jaw as if he didn't have a care in the world.

His eyes locked onto his partners' small twisting form as she easily weaved through the heavy crowd.

_Now_, she had a white shawl covering her shoulders and lower back, a sparkling necklace trailing down her front, a satchel hanging from her side lazily and a pink, wide brimmed hat hiding her noticeable red hair in the sea of brown.

He smirked, she looked good in _anything_.

His smirk suddenly dropped however when he noticed the suspicious agents glance over in her direction and seemed to stiffen slightly at the sight of her official looking, black leather boots. The man then tapped the woman's shoulder he had been standing beside and together they watched his partner. They looked like deadly predators who had just locked in on their prey. Theirs cold eyes hungrily staring her down as they locking onto their target. '_SHIT!' _

He couldn't let it happen. Not after everything she'd done for him, the countless times she'd dragged his ass out of the fire and saved him from himself. She still continued to do it to this day. Now it was time for him to watch _her _back.

He tried to bustle over to help but was pushed back by the densely moving crowd. Unable to get to her any faster he decided he would have to improvise on his feet and he furiously began spouting ideas.

Answers flew through his mind until he was able to latch onto a simplistic enough notion. He knew his partner would have easily labelled his new idea as idiotic and dangerous, quickly categorizing it into his apparently already overstuffed 'classic, corny Barton' file. But it was the only idea he could conjure quickly enough that he felt held the best chance of saving his partner.

He knew she would be pissed off that he would even attempt it, but he didn't care. That Russian red head was _always _pissed at something. He managed a weak grin as he imagined her face after he'd gone through with his plan, especially if his stupid antics actually saved their assess for once.

Copying what he'd seen in the movies, Clint quickly switched to Italian and yelled at the top of his lungs, "LUI HA UNA BOMBA!" which quickly translated meant, _'_HE'S GOT A BOMB!', and gestured at a shady looking street vendor who stared back at him in total shock. All eyes in the area went wide, including the two agents tailing his partner.

Of course, there was no bomb _what-so-ever _and it was highly unlikely that there _ever _would be one in this specific town, that only the minor criminals lurked in. There were _no _terrorists here.

But no sane person wanted to challenge him or risk standing around for even a millisecond to debate whether this random stranger was telling a weak lie and so they scattered in an instant.

Within seconds, the area erupted into a loud, trampling chaos, people heading outwards in every direction, arms raised in defence.

Thankfully the ploy had worked well enough that the agents were eyeing the vendor in confusion rather than Clint himself. He was glad, since he didn't feel completely disguised in his unfortunate attire consisting of a frilly purple poncho and the ugly yellow sunglasses.

As he quickly removed himself from the scene along with other fleeing people he watched over his partner who was almost at their destination now, then back over to the flustered looking agents. He was happy to see that they'd completely lost sight of his partner. Job well done! Finally something had gone RIGHT.

Beginning to run towards their destination, Clint put a mask of horror on his face still trying to blend into the chaos. He honestly didn't have much trouble with the acting, seeing as he was already nearing his wits trying to get out of this disaster mission alive without getting either of them shot-any more- or cracking under the stressful pressure of it all!

Breaking into a full out run, he swept one last cursory glance over the area, it was mostly due to habit, yet some small part also to witness his cheesy lie in action.

Mid-sweep however, Clints cold blue eyes were met with two other pairs. Somehow, the agents _he__'__d _been watching spy on his partner, were now watching him, intently. He realized he'd made the mistake of making eye contact almost as soon as it happened and mentally kicked himself.

Crap!

_Apparently _the ploy hadn't worked for long enough and they'd managed to inspect the fleeing faces and figures well enough in their immediate vicinity. It looked like he'd been one of those _lucky _few, as they'd probably caught sight of his pale skin tone and then his familiar face… _GOD DAMN IT!_

Unable to come up with a Plan B, Clint decided his best option was to hide again and take them out one by one quietly, out of sight. There was no point trying to be the nice guy here and trying to convince them of the truth. They were here under strict orders and unlike him, they wouldn't bend them. Not one degree.

'Crap! They'd been _so _close to escaping unnoticed! Natasha would no doubt be pissed that he'd managed to catch their full attention.' Clint cursed himself as he met the double doors.

He barrelled himself through them towards the supposed safety inside, taking an extreme left turn out of the of fire when he suddenly crashed into his partners form.

He almost fell from the harsh impact but managed to steady himself in time. Without any words between them, Clint quickly conveyed what had happened through all the emotions suddenly running through his usually expressionless face. Natasha didn't seem pissed with him but he knew she'd remind him if they ever got out of here.

Instead she clenched his wrist tightly and dragged him through the large opening of the museum, past dusty glass display cases and spiralling marble stairways towards what looked like a sectioned off area near an abandoned lecture hall.

A steel sign surrounded by several cautionary posts and chains stated in a warning in bold Italian words that the hall was off limits to the public while under construction and was unsafe for public use. _'__Sorry for any inconvenience__'_it added. The duo smiled eyeing one another with the same thoughts. Well, this was convenient! It was the perfect mini hideout!

No civilian would enter and construction never began before 9 around here, so it would be abandoned. Hopefully, the creeps following them wouldn't feel it was also perfectly 'convenient' and come snooping around because if they did, well…

They darted into the hall, slamming the oak wooden doors shut and running towards a section of pillars out of the line of sight of the entrance. Loud echoes reverberated across the area due to the high ceilings.

Neither bothered to appreciate the amazing detail and grandeur of the old museum that seemed so well maintained in such an area. Their lives were far from luxury. They didn't have time to relax and have fun like normal people do, they never had.

Panting quietly, Clint and Natasha braced themselves against the pillars staring at one another vaguely but training their ears for the slightest sound.

Now they just had to wait.

**Ooooh more suspense ;) What****'****s going to happen? Anybody noticed Clints increased attractions to his partner? Looks like he cant help himself ;)**

**It seems he****'****s not the only one though since she likes him around too****…****.**


	12. Showdown

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven****'****t put one up in a while, my homework crap is all due at the end of this week and man is there a TON of it****…****so I don****'****t know when I****'****ll be able to update lately but bare with me! I am reading the reviews and I thank you for your support and patience!**

**So I made this chapter longer than usual to make up for the wait ****J**

**Anyways, Enjoy! This chapter gets to show you a little bit more of the assassin in them ;)**

Within seconds Clint and Natasha heard the doors to the museum burst open forcefully, their swinging momentum causing them to bang loudly against the walls. This was followed by clomping sets of boots that seemed to run in every direction all at once as the sounds echoed off the marble walls and floors.

Looked like the two they'd seen before had brought some friends. _Great_.

'For an undercover surveillance team, they sure were loud' Natasha thought. It made her question how the heck they'd managed to evade her ever searching eyes.

The stomping boots seemed to get louder and louder with every passing second, their footfalls so heavy that they could feel the pulsing vibrations.

Natasha eyed the room carefully, searching for any possible escape routes, until her eyes found an unlit fire escape in the left corner of the large room. This room certainly held no grandeur apart from the ceiling. It was an utter mess.

Apart from a few planks of loose wooden boards, empty pizza boxes and a small crusty looking wooden podium, the room was bare. Well, apart from the construction material that covered _every _inch of the place.

Scaffoldings were placed _every where_, their wooden platforms stacked all the way up to the ceiling, each level cluttered with an assortment of tools. Nail-guns, ropes, screwdrivers, spanners, boxes, casings…Natasha smiled ruefully, her partner catching the strange action and questioning her motives with his arching brows.

Clint followed her suggestive gaze curiously until he saw the littering of sharp pointy objects cluttering the majority of the room until suddenly it all clicked. Unless she was planning on Macgyver-ing her way out of here or it was a sad attempt to become the first 'one man' A-Team, he was fairly sure she planned on turning the tools into their personal weapons.

'Man, his partner was cruel as a rattlesnake sometimes' Clint accepted with an almost fearful look.

He acknowledged her evil grin with a quick nod of his head as he continued to sub consciously hold his breath.

As they continued to wait in intense silence, outside of the lecture hall doors were being brutally kicked off their hinges one by one followed by a rush of feet and clicking of guns. Looked like their door was next.

There goes the 'lets play nice theory' Clint thought with a sigh, tensing his body and clenching his fists, ready for action. He could feel Natasha tensing up behind him too, ready to pounce like the fierce wild cat she was.

The big oak doors flew open on the third try, Natasha's small last minute rope unable to hold back against the strain any more and snapped. Four men, clad in thick black uniforms rushed in, guns drawn and ready.

They were agents. There was no insignia on their arms but you could tell who they were official by the way they moved, with supposed deadly efficiency, each one looking like they could take do some serious damage. But were they good enough for master assassins or were they just the runt of the litter? They'd just have to test that theory…

Natasha watched the scene unfold with her cold calculative eyes as if in slow motion, as the black widow within took over.

She quickly weighed her options while considering the easiest and fastest way to disarm and subdue this threat. She made herself promise that she wouldn't _kill _anyone unless she absolutely had to.

She had killed innocents before under orders and now they haunted her dreams for what she knew would be the rest of her days.

She was going to keep the innocent body count to a minimal now, that was a promise.

As the first two agents swept into the room, mechanically assessing the hall sector by sector, inch by inch, Clint slowly began to lower himself to the floor, keeping himself level with the beam he hid behind until he could lie flat on his stomach.

The dull throb permeating near his ribs subsided slightly to an ache as he met the cool marble ground. It was nice and soothing but he kept his muscles tensed, now was not the time to relax.

His body was now lying symmetrical to a dirty brown canvas that was bunched up on the floor, keeping his form hidden as he watched the last of the four agents boots pass by his face and continue towards the back of the hall.

Now was their chance.

The two assassins simultaneously dropped towards the unsuspecting, bold agents almost to fast for the eye to see. Natasha taking the leading two men from behind, Clint taking out their doubles from underneath.

Natasha began by fiercely snapping a flattened hand into the crick of the first agents neck at lightning speed forcing him to hang his head back. His head now at a vulnerable angle, she quickly grabbed at the front of his throat and forced him further back, pulling his upper torso further off balance and making him tumble while she folded into a crouched position, reacting to the mans partner before he could even make his 'deadly' shot.

What looked like a metal stun dart whined harmlessly through the air where Natasha had been standing upright seconds ago and embedded itself into a marble beam. While she had waited for the harmless dart to fire past over head Natasha had wasted to time and continued to subdue her first 'victim' as she dragged his body out of the line of fire and smack the base of his skull into the marble floor.

It hadn't been fancy, but that wasn't the point. It was easy and quick and effective. That was all she had wanted. He was out and down for the count within milliseconds like she'd planned and he hadn't even _seen _it coming.

As she continued to stay in a crouch like stance, Natasha balanced her weight on her left boot and kicked out her right leg, catching the shooter in the at the side of his knee. This resulted in a painfully unnatural sound somewhere between a 'pop' and a 'crack' as the man began to topple his face contorting into agony, his mouth opening wide about to let loose a scream.

Natasha leaped over, and whipped a fist at his throat silencing him by suddenly cutting off all air to his windpipe, then swept a leg under his slightly slumped forwards form, sending him crashing onto his face. It was a little sloppier than the first attack but she had to admit, it was still just as effective.

Whipping her head around she watched as her partner dealt with his opponents in a more realistically human reaction time. She watched his impressive agility as he brought his opponents his fury.

Clint unfurled from the floor like a snake mid-strike, blue eyes cold and decisive. T was weird seeing him serious and in 'agent-mode' but Natasha didn't mind, it was kind of interesting.

Of course he had to ruin the deadly fierce look about him when he brought up a small hammer, but he still put it to good use and smashed it down on one mans foot.

The mans eyes bulged in shock and instinctively held up his leg, removing his foot, though the damage was already done, ready to curse out in pain. But before he could utter a sound, Clint swept a strong leg under the mans one remaining good foot and let him fall onto the floor heavily, knocking the breath from his lungs before any sound could escape.

By now, the mans partner had just managed to aim his weapon at Clint but unfortunately he'd been _just _too slow, not having enough time left to pull on the trigger before the assassin was on him.

Now in bent stance, Clint quickly threw the hammer at his attacker with one small flick of his wrist in one swift motion almost too quick for the eye to follow. He'd known the little tool would have come in useful.

The force and trajectory of the metal hammer landed straight between the mans eyes, leaving a small red square as his eyes glazed over and rolled up into his head. It was a hard shot to make quickly but then again, Hawkeye never missed his intended target.

Without needing to confirm the hit, Clint continued relentlessly, dealing with his first breathless attacker before the man could even respond to his partners submission. Clints fingers shot out to the mans neck and pinched at just the right nerve, ending it. Upon the slight pinch the man twitched once slightly before his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell into unconsciousness.

They'd looked tough sure, but that didn't mean shit when it came down to reality. Those poor agents had just officially been creamed.

It had all happened within a matter of seconds: at least two concussions, possibly three cracked ribs, a bruised diaphragm, swollen trachea, one broken knee cap and a lot of lost pride had resulted here within these walls. That's what you got when you messed with two world class assassins.

Sure, they hadn't _wanted _to attack their very own organization. It wouldn't exactly add a vote of confidence towards their supposedly innocent plea but it had needed to be done. They couldn't let them follow and update their every move. It was just _too _risky with all the unanswered questions and strange followers hanging around them lately.

Clint picked himself lazily up off the floor and added a grin when he met his partners heated gaze. She looked unimpressed to say the least, her arms crossed, her hip sticking out, vibrant red hair in disarray. She huffed when she caught him smirking and shook her head. He knew she was putting on a show, she always loved to try and hurt his feelings. It was her natural way of pretending to be cold but teasing him at the same time and sometimes, it worked-to his annoyance.

" Yup! Still got it!" Clint added to _her _annoyance, stretching his hands out before him and obnoxiously flexing his arm muscles at his partner. 'Man, I find it _way _too much fun to tease her' he thought, suppressing a giggle when he caught her murderous stare after his innocent banter.

" Shut it Barton, we're still on a mission here" Natasha scolded.

"_Really_?" Clint asked sarcasm dripping in his voice " _-and what mission is that exactly_?"

" It's called the, 'Get out of Italy _alive__'_mission-" Natasha stated bluntly while she pocketed a few idle nails and wrenches. "-preferably with me in one piece and _you _in a box" she mumbled loudly enough for him to hear.

Had Clint been anyone else but the agent he was, he would have never been able to tell his partner was joking and would have probably run for the hills at her seemingly truthful sounding comment. However, Clint merely played along with her banter while he helped her acquire odd, needless materials.

" Perfect! _Finally_, somewhere I can make a nest!" he joked.

Natasha froze midway from picking up a nail to look at him dumbfounded, trying to acknowledge that he was actually making fun of himself for once while referring to himself as an animal, in third person, and then_…__ laughing_? 'What the hell? It made no sense!'

She didn't bother to decipher his humour but instead mentally slapped herself for his stupidity. 'How in the hell did I get stuck with him again?' she demanded to some unknown force.

She already knew the answer. Because he had bothered to spare her life, give her a choice to sort out her shitty life and take her in when no one else cared to. _That__'__s _why she was with him. He wasn't completely intolerable as she'd like him to believe.

Clint continued to stare at his annoyed partner, watching her freeze at his strange sense of humour, a puzzled look on her face before continuing to pick up the last of the nails.

Whatever she had planned to do with them, he didn't want to know. He heard her sigh slightly which forced him to grin once again.

He clapped his hands together. " So, where to now?" he asked.

"_You _are the senior agent here you know. You're the one that's supposed to know or come up with all the plans" Natasha replied coolly, crossing her arms across her chest once more after she'd pocketed the final nail.

" So you're admitting you don't know?" Clint asked, the tone in his voice tainted with a now hidden smile.

"No" she replied instantly, seeming peeved he'd worked around her statement like he always did.

"Good. I don't want to have to baby-sit you or let you get sloppy on the job Romanov!" he stated cheerfully, quickly turning his back on his partners face as she seethed in rage at his insult, doing her best to resist the strong urge to strangle him.

Clint bent down towards one of the agents and began tugging at the mans black, long sleeved uniform top and wrestling it off the slumped form.

"What are you doing now?" Natasha growled but her tone still held the slight hint of curiosity.

" Well they know what we look like now right?" Clint began rhetorically, "-and there's no way we-" he paused seeing his partners smug face and rolled his eyes as he continued to pull at the clothing "-well, there's no way _I _can keep up the disguises to fool them long enough. So I guess if you can't beat 'em, join 'em!" Clint concluded with the corny popular line.

Natasha acknowledged that it was a little bold for her taste for such a risky situation to simply go strolling around in SHIELD uniforms within sight of their enemies and in broad daylight.

But maybe, just maybe, if they kept their faces hidden and their heads down then their pursuers would look past them as one of the 'team' for just long enough to let them escape without attracting much attention or suspicion.

She hated to admit his plan had some gumption, she didn't like having to follow his lead, or anybodys for that matter. She'd lived her life independently without getting any help nor needing any. Control was her way of feeling safe and now that it was gone she couldn't help but feel uneasy. 'Hopefully this would work' she comforted herself.

Natasha quickly bent down and began stripping down the unconscious agent next to Clints, as he began redressing himself in the familiar uniform.

It had been only a day or so since everything had gone to shit. It was amazing how the concept of time worked around here.

As they pulled on the last of their uniform they looked over one another carefully. Clint seemed to look genuinely comfortable in his, being almost the same size as the previous agent. Natasha however was a woman in a mans clothes so of course it was almost much too big for her.

Nonetheless she made it work, folding corners down and tucking them in, smoothing down corners up until she had made it compact enough to fool someone into believing she might own it.

Clint merely nodded his approval that she could avoid suspicion and they quickly exited the hall, closing the door behind them as much as the busted hinges would allow.

Before they exited the front doors they went over a rough plan.

" Okay, so basically we just need to get out of the immediate area, I'd say five blocks east. According to that map we were given that should land us at Napoli Centrale where hopefully we can catch a ride on the rails away from this hell hole." Clint surmised.

Natasha was impressed he'd been able to remember such distinct details on a map after everything he'd been through but she should have expected it. He was supposed to 'see everything' after all. It wouldn't be much of a motto if it wasn't true.

She nodded her approval while adding, " Stay close to the inner ring of the square, I spotted a few popular vendors there, it might help for cover. If we get split up I'll meet you at our target… Don't do anything stupid Barton" she added finally, seeing the wild look rising behind his cool blue eyes as the adrenaline began to pump through his veins.

'Immature thrill seeker' Natasha noted mentally with an exasperated sigh.

" Don't you worry about me, my darling Tasha! I will return to your warm embrace in no time!" he stated melodramatically, posing slightly, holding the back of his hand to his forehead and then grinning stupidly.

She wanted to shove her first through his face and use his teeth as a necklace but again, she resisted the urge.

" The only warm embrace you're going to get off me, is the inside of an oven Barton. Now, get your ass out of here!" she hissed, pointing at the doors.

He gave her one last stupid grin before he suddenly masked his face into a professional SHIELD looking agent one and stepped out into the dangerous sunlight with her.

**Cool to see how efficient they can be in action eh? All joking aside, it was almost like they were born to be assassins****…**** Anyways, I hope their little plan works out don****'****t you? **

**We****'****ve yet to see where the other ****'****secret****'**** bad guy is yet or why he****'****s out to end them****…****I wonder what they could have possibly done to make him want to get revenge so bad****…**** wait did I say **_**revenge**_**? ;) **

**Hopefully I****'****ll get those chapters up soon****…****first I have to create them though ;) don****'****t worry I **_**do **_**have a rough outline****…****.I just have to find time to do it.**

**Thanks to all the Reads/Reviews you guys are too kind!**


	13. Bokori

**Hey guys! Sorry I haven****'****t been able to post for a while I was assigned 2 large essays, a large biography write up and was ordered to trace my family tree 4 generations back-which is hard for me bc of the amount of relatives-**_**anyways**_

**I made a longer chapter again bc I was absent for so long, this is a very important chapter too since it starts tying motives together, adding a **_**lot **_**to the plot line and I introduced that unknown villain that started this whole mess! **

**So this chapter should be very interesting -and hopefully entertaining!**

**I will update as often as I am able, sorry about any waits guys, I **_**am **_**trying to keep this story a regular weekly thing.**

**Anyways, Enjoy! ;)**

"WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY!" Tivador Bokori demanded.

The stout man in specs beside him didn't dare meet his masters furious gaze, the hairs on the back of his neck were already standing on end due to the tension in the back of the small van. He could feel his masters small, beady, black eyes glaring holes into the top of his shiny, pale, domed head.

" I..I…I don't know…we j-just lost them! Alpha t-team was on th-them but somehow Romanov got p-past them" the stout man stuttered, attempting to console his masters dangerous temper before he exploded, he knew it was futile.

" Just got past them?….. WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE GOT PAST THEM?!" Bokori erupted, causing the other to cower away.

"THERE WAS 40 OF THEM! BARTON WAS HIT! IT'S IMPOSSIBLE! SHE'S GOOD BUT NOT THAT GOOD!" Bokori raged, thrusting his arms upwards as if a greater being could offer up a better explanation, preferably to his liking.

" W-w-well, Yes, u-usually it w-would be s-sir! B-but, this is R-Romanov we're t-talking about, she's better than the last t-time we encountered h-her…" came the nervous reply.

He cringed as Bokori took a step closer to the stout man, now leaning back as far as he could from his master, laptop clenched against his chest with pudgy white fingers. Bokori smiled inwardly and brought his face so close up to the mans that he could feel the heat from his sweaty face.

Bokori's black eyes seemed to _somehow _take on an even darker appearance as the shady van left his brow in shadows and obscured half his face. By the look on the stout mans horrified expression someone might have guessed there was a demon in the van with him.

" Do you think I've _forgotten _who we're talking about, Kovak?" Divator Bokori challenged menacingly in the half light, black strands of curly hair beginning to fall into his seemingly black and bottomless eye sockets. Kovak shrank further back against the vans interior walls, wishing he could be anywhere but here right now.

"N-no sir! Of c-course n-not!" Kovak replied hastily, eyes downcast. Bokori didn't remove himself however, he only seemed to lean in closer, to Kovaks horror.

" So then tell me, my dear Kovak, why is it that this person of so much importance to me, has still not been found yet, hmmm?" Bokori asked in almost a whisper, nose inches away from Kovaks, the condensation from his breath now covering his glasses.

Kovak closed his eyes tightly, the intense air around him making him feel as if he was in the eye of a hurricane, safe for so short a time before the winds of destruction swept him away into oblivion. Sitting on a ticking bomb would have been less stressful at this rate.

With Kovak remaining speechless, Bokori continued his intense one-sided staring match and instead answered his own question in and eerily calm and quiet voice, "Well I'll simply tell you why then, my dear friend-" he began, standing up now, though he was forced to stoop slightly due to his tall frame and the small interior.

If anything, his stooped pose only seemed more deadly, mirroring a preying mantis before it struck a deadly blow.

"-It's because not ONE of my _many _men bothered to leave a fucking tracking device on their vehicle as I had carefully instructed, just in case it all went to shit!" Bokori accused his voice continued to rise in volume.

" _-_and so the consequence for their inexcusable stupidity was that she _KILLED _some of _my _men and ESCAPED!" Bokori screamed.

The hardcore thugs in the front of the van even cringed at the volume of this statement, Kovaks' ears still ringing from the deafeningly thunderous voice.

The silence that followed was almost just as bad as the intense lecture, Bokori's ragged breathing the only real sound that echoed through the small van besides the occasional whir from one of the many laptops set up within the van.

After a few more moments of silence, Divator Bokori took a deep breath, slicked his unruly black hair back onto his head and straightened out the collar of his expensive looking grey suit and tie. He sat down afterwards, seemingly more content than before and faced his socially simple yet brilliant, technologically advanced man.

Bokori marvelled how his second in command could be so smart yet stupid at the same time. They would usually get along quite well but in reality people like him never had friends, they only had 'friends' and so everyone was two faced and expendable in this business. He knew exactly how to use the man to his advantage and put him in his place so he would actually _use _his brain.

Bokori eyed the metal floor for a minute before looking up once more, flashing Kovak an unnerving, yellow toothy smile, his evil grin turning Kovaks stomach into knots.

" Before tonight, I want you to _get _some agents down to the police department and hack into their video surveillance. Make sure you scan within at least a twenty block radius of this area from the last twenty-four hours" he instructed.

" You _will _pick up their lead again Kovak, so help me god, or you'll I'll cut off those nifty little fingers of yours and feed them to my dogs. I'm sure that would force you into a new profession and we know how much you hate socializing" Bokori added with a knowing smile recalling Kovaks shamefully desperate need for money and then the quick recruitment into his shady dealings.

"I've waited _too _long for this and I swear upon my fathers grave, those two will pay dearly for what they did."

After seeing the look on Kovaks face, he knew the message had gotten through. No one would dare fail him again. He wasn't a man who would back down from his statements and they all knew it.

Bokori then quickly stepped out of the van and slammed the sliding door shut leaving his strong, expensive fragrance to hang thickly in the van, it would act as a constant reminder to his men that he would be an 'ever' presence around them, always looming behind them, watching.

They knew it was wise to attend to their obligations as quickly as possible now, rather than delay it any further and suffer at his merciless wrath.

After shutting the door, Bokori moved across the bare parking lot towards a second awaiting vehicle. A souped up BMW with all the unnecessary trims that only power and money could afford was waiting for him, door open, chauffer at the ready.

After he'd comfortably seated himself inside on the luscious leather couch, the car quickly departed, it was headed for his temporary lodgings up town where he could mull over everything and strategically plan ahead.

As the car continued to lurch around corners, Bokori's mind began to wander once more, reviewing the conversation he'd just had, the look of fear on their faces. Bokori smiled.

He loved to intimidate people, it had been his job after all…having once been a great boxing champion in his relative youth only a few years previous, his fathers rich empire only fuelling his gain…up until it all came crashing down around him.

Bokori angrily picked at the seams of the leather seat as he recalled how he had been forced to scramble desperately for shelter like a pitiful child, just so he could survive that nightmare before he could get caught in the 'avalanche.'

The unfamiliar feeling of shame began to swell up from Bokori's core, twisting in his gut and flushing his face in embarrassment as he remembered having to crawl and beg his way back to previous shady 'friends' of his fathers business-like empire, and pleading them to take him in as his father had done for them.

Those we the dark bitter days, full of loss, loneliness, betrayal and utter hatred to get his revenge. He could still feel it burning deeply inside, never able to die out until it got the justice it wanted, driving him back to life, seeking a way for revenge.

Since then, he'd been working hard at re-establishing himself into a more respectable manner, earning himself back a merciless reputation in the underworld, along with some much needed backup, money and power so he could _finally_ exact this revenge.

He smiled briefly at that last thought until the memories of the ambush came rushing back full force replacing the smile with the usual frown. His plan had failed, the ambush had gone awry!

Well, it _obviously _wasn't his fault, he had practised it down to the nub, even bribing workers away from the area, everything! Somebody was going to pay dearly for this mistake.

Of course this didn't mean he would stop trying, no, he would follow those bastards who'd screwed up his life until he had their heads on a spit above his fireplace. _Then _he would rest.

This was just a minor hiccup, an annoying mistake that _would _have thrown an oversized wrench into his plans had he not bothered to consider such a failure.

After watching his father turn crooked with greed and 'evolving' his business to serve others of the shady variety, young Bokori had learnt a few wise lessons in life. One being that you should never be too proud to have a backup plan so you never lost what you worked for, so that you could have the last laugh and keep on living.

And so he had steeled his pride and bothered to put in a few 'fail-safes,' tapping into the surveillance, recording the two agents attempt to make their hit and then fighting off the 'thugs' after which he had sent it into that mysterious government agency he learnt of through his downfall, S.H.I.E.L.D.

He knew there would no doubt be an uproar over this footage -as he had hoped, the 'hit' agent Barton and Romanov had been ordered on, completely fabricated by Bokori's paid extensions.

'Oh how I love to turn the innocent into the suspect!' Bokori thought darkly, '-corrupting their little minds is so much fun and easy with the help of money. I can make them do anything I wish!'

Having a man on the inside of an intelligence network had admittedly been _extremely _expensive but it had been worth it. And on the bright side, the man _had _been a package deal, what with his natural talent on making brilliant government forgeries that he'd then sneakily passed along through networks and given to those unsuspecting, 'soon to be dead' agents.

Bokori smiled as he absently glanced out of the sunny window, passing down the narrow villa streets.

There was _still _hope… for him at least.

**Hope you liked my OC villain! I tried to make him as evil and shady as I could****…****I know I haven****'****t revealed his need for revenge yet****…****but I did make a few references****…****maybe its already obvious? **

**Also****…****.I don****'****t know if you****'****re familiar with Hungarian names but ****'****Bokori****'**** is **_**definitely **_**Hungarian****…****..**

**You might wonder why I****'****m pointing this out****…****lets just say if you research the following hint you will have more insight as to where the plotline is going before everybody else.**

**The significance of Bokori****'****s Hungarian name is that it alludes to his past and where he was from at the time of his ****'****crisis****'****. Most Hungarian names originate from Hungary -duh ;)- the capital of Hungary being _?**

**If you saw the movie****…****this capital will mean something to you ;) ****…****Just little homework teaser if your willing to check ;)**


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